Viable Threat

by Julie Rowe

  “The voice of experience?” Geer asked with a faint sneer.

  “Abso-fucking-lutely. This kind of multiple strike is a favorite of today’s modern terrorist.”

  Geer snorted. “As opposed to what, eighties mullet terrorists?”

  “And shoulder pads, don’t forget the shoulder pads.” River gave him a half-salute, then nodded at her. “Let’s get to the helicopter.”

  She grabbed her collection kit and followed him as he damn near ran for the helicopter landing at the other end of the courtyard.

  The pilot was dressed in a hazmat suit, as were the two men waving at River and her to hurry. As soon as they were inside and the door to the aircraft was closed, the pilot had them in the air.

  One of the men helped her to a seat. The other secured her collection case to an empty seat with the seat harness. Normally, she’d think they were overdoing the safety thing, but given the situation…there was no such thing as overdoing it.

  The flight only took a couple of minutes, which was plenty of time to see firsthand just how crazy the situation had become in the hour since she’d been gone to collect samples.

  There was an army of ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars at the front of the hospital, all with their lights flashing, but their sirens off. People were milling around, but not as many as all the vehicles warranted. In fact, she could only see seven moving bodies down there.

  The lack of noise and imbalance between the number of vehicles and people made the scene below…eerie.

  She lost sight of the area as they flew over the top of the building. They didn’t land on the helicopter pad; they landed in a back parking lot surrounded by a fence. A lot empty of cars, but full of CDC vehicles, tents, and people in hazmat suits.

  Once the helicopter touched down, an entire brigade of people rushed over. Ava hadn’t even gotten her harness released before someone had the door open and was reaching in for her sample collection case. It took her a moment to recognize the man as Henry Lee, a tech who was the key person responsible for the hands-on lab work that would identify the pathogen. Once Henry had begun investigating an unknown microorganism, he didn’t stop until he had it identified.

  “How many samples did you get?” he shouted at her.

  “Forty-three,” she shouted back. The pilot hadn’t turned the engine off, and between that and the noise the rotors made, she could barely hear herself think. “We got blown up, so you’re going to need to take samples from us after we’ve been through decontamination.”

  He paused to stare at her. “Blown up? When did that happen?”

  “About twenty minutes ago, I think.” She glanced at River, but he was talking to Dr. Rodrigues, who must have entered from the other side of the aircraft. “It’s been a bit chaotic.”

  Henry nodded. “I’m working in our lab-in-a-box. They set it down on the other side of the parking lot. As soon as you’re finished in decontamination, come find me and I’ll take some samples from you.” He gave her a thumbs-up and trotted off with her collection kit.

  Someone on the other side of her shook her arm.

  Ava turned to find Dr. Rodrigues examining her with a critical gaze. “Any injuries to report?” she yelled.

  “Nothing worth treatment, ma’am. I’d be surprised if I don’t have some deep bruising along my right side and back. Did Sergeant River explain about my concern with the integrity of our suits?”

  “Yes, there’s a decontamination team ready to scrub you head to toe. Report to me after you’re done.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Dr. Rodrigues ducked away, paused, then came back. “Good job. Sergeant River said you handled yourself well.” She left so quickly Ava didn’t have time to think of a response. She glanced at River, but he was busy getting out of his harness.

  He’d taken the time to compliment her to her boss? Her breath shuttered out of her chest as heat blossomed inside her to spread across her body and up her neck. He kept surprising her. It was confusing.

  Focus.

  Ava got out of the aircraft and followed another tech from the CDC who led her to a free-standing tent. River was being guided into another tent a few feet away.

  Both structures were about twelve feet square with one entry/exit.

  Inside, there was a line of three tanks containing different chemicals capable of killing bacteria, viruses, fungi, molds, and spores.

  The tech sprayed her down with her suit on first, then had Ava take it off, along with the clothing she wore beneath it. A different woman, one she didn’t know, came and took her clothes away without comment.

  “Close your eyes and mouth,” the tech ordered. “You don’t want to get this stuff in them.”

  Ava complied, and she sprayed her with the first solution, then the second.

  “Keep your eyes closed while I scrub you down,” she said. “Let me know if any gets into them. We’ll need to rinse them properly if that happens.”

  Ava nodded, and she began scrubbing.

  After that, she was sprayed down with a third solution. Then the tech put a towel in her hand, and Ava could finally wipe her face dry and open her eyes.

  “I didn’t see any obvious tears or holes in your suit. I also didn’t see any evidence of any liquids penetrating the suit.”

  Ava nearly collapsed with relief.

  “I’m going to issue you another suit anyway,” the tech continued. “Once you’re dressed, Henry wants to see you, then Dr. Rodrigues. After you’ve seen them and been cleared for work, you can come back here to pick up your new suit.”

  “Will do. Thanks.”

  “Be careful. Just before you arrived, I got word that the death toll has grown to fifteen.”

  Holy shit. “Has the pathogen been identified yet?”

  “If it has, no one is saying anything.” The tech gave her a wry smile. In other words, they either had no idea what it was, or they knew what it was, but were double-checking the identification to ensure that the first answer they got was the right one.

  It had to be something very nasty.

  Ava nodded at the other woman, then took the set of scrubs provided, got dressed, and stepped out.

  The sun had set while she’d been in the decontamination tent. Portable light towers set up at regular intervals now added a white glow to the fading sunlight.

  Two men were talking quietly not far away. One of them had his back to her. He wasn’t tall, his body compact, and the scrubs he wore left his muscular arms bare for the most part. He almost seemed to blend into the shadows.

  “Sergeant River?” she asked, not completely certain it was him.

  He glanced at her over his shoulder. It was quick, no more than a second, but that was plenty of time for her to confirm it was him.

  The impact his gaze had on her, now that there weren’t two layers of hazmat suit between them, knocked the wind out of her. His eyes were a warm amber, the bones of his face strong rather than handsome, his black hair trimmed military short. He looked every inch the soldier. Tough. Determined. Deadly. But even the most dangerous men needed help and support sometimes. He’d been assigned to her, which made him her responsibility.

  That’s all he was, a colleague, a partner, nothing else.

  She shivered as a cold ball of ice formed in the bottom of her stomach, telling her it was already too late—he’d saved her life and treated her like an equal partner. For that alone, he’d earned her trust, but he’d gone even further. He’d shown her more respect in the past hour than most men did in a week.

  She didn’t want him to get under her skin, really didn’t.

  He turned away to shake the hand of the man talking to him, thanked him, then faced her, giving her a thorough head-to-toe examination. Protective. Proprietary.

  He strode toward her, stopping close enough that she had to force herself not to take a step back. “Everything okay?”

  In the face of his concern, how could she not care? “Um, yes,” she managed to say after taking
in a quick, shaky breath. “You?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t find any holes in my suit.”

  “Mine was okay, too.” She couldn’t stop staring at him. He radiated testosterone. How could she have not noticed how seriously freaking hot he was?

  “So,” River drawled after a moment, one corner of his mouth curling up for the briefest of moments. “We need to see that guy, Henry?”

  Ava winced. Get it together, you stupid woman. “Yes, come on.” She led the way to what most people would look at and see as a metal shipping container, the kind used on large ships for items like cars or trucks.

  “This is a portable lab?” River asked as they stopped outside a tentlike structure that had been attached to one side of the box. Another smaller tent sat next to it. A glance inside revealed a cot, a case of bottled water, and a few Meals Ready to Eat.

  “Yes, fully functional and self-contained.” she said, waving at the security camera mounted on one of the support poles of the tent. “Henry, we’re here.”

  “Think of this”—she gestured at the heavy-duty airtight plastic in front of them—“as an air lock.”

  River stepped back a few paces to examine the entire structure. “A helicopter brings it in?” he asked, pointing at the giant handles on either end of the metal box.

  “Yes. It provides its own power through batteries recharged by solar panels, so it can go anywhere.”

  “An Army doctor I know had something like this, but it was made of canvas and broke down so it fit into duffel bags.”

  “I know her. I’ve seen pictures of her tent. It’s ingenious.” Wait, how did he know about it? She watched him sidelong and said tentatively, “I didn’t think that tent design had been shared with anyone outside of the Army’s Biological Response Team.”

  “I did some support work for the Bio Response Team last year. Helped set up that tent.”

  “During the incident when she blew up her lab?”

  “Yep, though I didn’t witness the explosion.”

  “Busy shooting bad guys?”

  “No, an ex-friend of mine had kicked me in the head. There’s forty-seven hours I lost last year the doctors say I’ll never get back.”

  Chapter Six

  7:45 p.m.

  Ava stared at River with the widest brown eyes he’d ever seen. “Kicked you in the head?”

  She had an incredibly expressive face. Every emotion transformed her features into a canvas that spoke with more eloquence than words could ever convey. At the moment, shock and concern dominated. He could watch her for hours and never get bored.

  “Yeah, with his combat boots. Asshole. Gave me a hell of a concussion, which turned out to be far worse than the bullet wound he also gave me.”

  “A friend of yours did this?” Her voice rose with enough righteous anger that he almost laughed.

  “Ex-friend. He turned mercenary after he left the Army.”

  “In more ways than one,” she muttered.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Any lasting brain damage?” she asked, then paled and sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry.” She covered her mouth with both hands. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have just blurted the question out like that.”

  Fuck, she was cute.

  River laughed and mussed up her hair, mostly because he wanted to see if it felt as silky as it looked. “Don’t worry about it, Mouse.”

  Soft, satiny strands flowed over his fingers in a tactile tease. She stared at him, her cheeks going from pale to red.

  He dropped his hand, cleared his throat, and asked, “Henry?”

  “Right.” She squared her shoulders and led the way, muttering, “Idiot, just keep your mouth shut from now on.”

  River leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I like your mouth just the way it is.”

  She whipped around to stare at him, her luscious mouth hanging open. “What?”

  “You heard me.” After this shit was over, he was going to make a point of spending time with his mouse.

  Quality time.

  Sexy time.

  “Henry?” he asked again, letting his gaze rest on her lips.

  She snapped her jaw closed, narrowed her gaze into a glare, then turned on her heel and marched over to the camera again.

  She was fun to poke at and tease. All prickly and pretty and ruffled up.

  “Henry,” Ava shouted at the piece of electronics. “We’re here, hurry up.” She turned her back on River as if he’d insulted her entire family history.

  Adorable.

  A minute later, Henry came out, frowning. “Where’s the fire?”

  River stared at him. He’d seen this guy before. Or his twin.

  “An outbreak is worse than a fire,” she said tartly. “Haven’t you identified the pathogen yet?”

  “Sort of.” He waved her off her next question. “You know how this works. Dr. Rodrigues will give you the details.” He pulled a couple of long, plastic cylindrical tubes out of his pocket. “I need nasal and throat samples.”

  She opened her mouth.

  Henry stuck the swab down her throat, put it back inside its tube, then got a second one and repeated the procedure with her nose.

  “Now you,” the tech said to River.

  He obediently opened his mouth, and watched how Henry moved. Precise and controlled. The edge of a tattoo became visible on his left arm as the man shoved a swab up River’s nose.

  Bingo.

  “Henry Lee?” River asked when the other man had finished. “Special Forces medic?”

  Henry froze for a long second, and then his expression turned deadly. “I was discharged ten years ago. You want to tell me how you know that?”

  It wasn’t a question.

  In his shoes, River would probably have a similar reaction.

  “I’m good with faces. There are a couple of entertaining stories about you still in circulation. One guy has pictures.”

  “I know that guy,” Henry said with a grin so menacing it would have scared the shit out of a civilian. “He’s an asshole.”

  River returned the smile. “That guy is a general now.”

  “That just makes him a bigger asshole.” Henry’s face went blank and so cold it froze River’s bone marrow. He’d seen that expression on a few faces before. Most of those men were dead.

  Henry pointed at the hospital. “Dr. Rodrigues is waiting for you in the ER. Wear a hazmat suit.” He went into his lab in a box through the canvas air lock and slammed the door.

  Interesting place to find a man who reputedly killed three Taliban fighters in hand-to-hand combat while himself wounded.

  River glanced at Ava. She rolled her eyes. “Come on.” She headed back to the tents where they’d both been cleaned to within an inch of their lives, her spine as stiff as a steel rod.

  “Grumpy much?” he asked.

  She didn’t even glance at him. “I don’t like it when people have secrets.”

  What planet did she live on? “Sometimes secrets can have you by the balls.”

  “What?” She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I’m talking…” She stopped walking and pinched the bridge of her nose. “He knows what’s causing this infection, but didn’t share it with us.”

  “If the information is sensitive or destructive, it needs to be handled or delivered by the correct person, right? He’s a tech, right, not a doctor?”

  “I understand the reasons why he’s not allowed to tell anyone but Dr. Rodrigues. I just don’t always agree with it. I’m a doctor, too, and it’s not like I’m going to panic or blab.”

  “Someone else might.”

  “Stop making sense,” she growled at him as she resumed her fast, jerky stride toward the tents. “You’re pissing me off.”

  River laughed again.

  Adorable.

  The techs at the decontamination area were waiting with new hazmat suits. As soon as Ava got into hers, she started for the hospital.

  Considering everything they’d le
arned about the situation so far, River followed without comment.

  An outbreak had begun that morning at an outdoor coffee shop near the university. Three bombs had exploded in different locations in and around El Paso, including the nearby military base. The only clue they had regarding who was responsible and why they were doing it was from the ramblings of an ill, young American man. A twenty-year-old willing to blow himself up for some kind of cause.

  Now, at eight o’clock, the outbreak had appeared to pick up steam, infecting and killing greater and greater numbers of people.

  He didn’t blame Dr. Rodrigues one bit for keeping a lid on information.

  Noise smacked him across the face as they entered the hospital. The sound of a lot of people talking, yelling, and crying was underscored by the mechanical sounds of heart monitors, intravenous sets, and respirators.

  Ten feet inside the doors, patients in gurneys lined the hallway, the trail leading all the way back to the registration/triage desk.

  Ava never deviated from her course toward the desk, and River followed in her wake, dodging ambulatory patients, family members, and hospital staff.

  Someone grabbed his arm from behind.

  For an endless moment, he wasn’t in a hospital hallway. He was trudging on sand, the sun burning his eyes, a hot wind scoring his face.

  Pain exploding through his head.

  Fuck.

  He wasn’t going dark a second time.

  No fucking way.

  River spun, twisting out of the hold to find himself face-to-face with a weeping woman. It took more effort than it should have to stand down, to stuff the violence back inside him where it couldn’t hurt anyone else.

  Her hands clutched at him. “Please, Doctor, help my son. He can’t breathe.”

  Well, shit. “I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at the gurney she was trying to tug him toward. “I’m not a doctor.” The kid on the gurney was adult tall, but with a teen’s underdeveloped musculature. River could hear his panting wheeze from several feet away.

  That wasn’t good.

  “He can’t breathe!” she shouted at him, jerking on the plastic of his suit.

  Ava appeared next to him, taking the woman’s hands in hers. “We’ve just arrived,” she said with calm confidence. “We’ll talk to his nurse. The last thing we want to do is the wrong thing.”